


You seem to know me best

by rominatrix



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Praise Kink, not specific to any season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-24 20:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rominatrix/pseuds/rominatrix
Summary: Holden doesn't know what hearing a praise coming from Bill can do to him. Neither does Bill.





	1. Tucson, Arizona

Summertime means that Holden sweats profusely and his face, usually so composed with a natural cool, is shiny and sports a darker shade of pink all through the day.

He will wear his plain white cotton undershirt beneath his short sleeved button-down which, by midday, will be drenched in sweat beneath his armpits and all through his back. God forbid him undoing the first button of the shirt or losing the suit jacket, Bill ponders as he takes a sip of his cold beer after a long day in Tucson, Arizona.

“Something wrong?” Holden inquires as he approaches Bill, removing his Manson-approved sunglasses.

“You, Holden. What are you still doing wearing all... that?” Bill answers, cigarette dangling from his lips as he waves his beer bottle up and down at him.

Holden glances at himself and raises an eyebrow bewildered by his partner's comment. 

“Are my clothes bothering you, Bill?”

Bill scoffs and offers Holden a bottle shaking his head.

“I'm tired, and this fucking weather is not helping.” 

“Thank you,” says Holden as he takes a sip of the cold brew. “It is quite hot. I take it the pool is not an option?”

“A pool was first on my list when I asked Sarah to book us our rooms here.”

“Well. Is it an option then?” Holden replies playing along with Bill's obvious sarcasm.

“NO, Holden,” Bill starts, raising his voice. “I have no fucking idea about a p … Ah. Smartass.” Bill snorts shaking his head noticing the smirk on Holden's mouth.

Holden enjoys the moment. He doesn't always get the chance to mess with Bill and get away with it. Some time ago,he made a mental note to only tease him on particular days. Days after an excellent interview or when they are on a good streak in whatever case they are assisting. He's becoming used to their friendly banter, and he considers it a personal success if he doesn't manage to piss off Bill.

After all the days, weeks, and months that amount for the time they have spent together at airports, diners, cars, planes, prisons, police precincts, Quantico, and crime scenes, Holden regards himself as a permanent student of Bill's character even if he knows when, how, and why Bill will get frustrated by something Holden says, does or doesn't do. For example, if he were to mention that incident in which he accidentally opened the bathroom door while Bill was coming out of the shower in that small shared room while they stayed at Chesapeake, Virginia, that would surely rile him up and the word fuck in all its different forms would last until the next day.

Despite all this carefully gathered knowledge of Bill, sometimes isn't enough, especially when Bill stares at him fixedly,and his demeanor changes, which throws Holden off balance. He doesn't know for sure what's going on in Bill's head when that happens, and that mystery is still unsolved in his never-ending study of his partner. Whenever he thinks he's close to having him all figured out, Bill surprises him again, which is one of the reasons why Holden can't picture himself working with anyone else in their unit. There might be other reasons that Holden is very much aware of. He has peaked into that bolted door and has not yet dared to open it again out of fear of what he might be letting loose.

The intense summer day becomes more bearable as the sun begins to set and a small breeze comes their way. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the city and crickets chirp in the distance on this warm evening.

Bill drinks another beer while Holden carefully arranges his suit jacket behind a chair of the balcony that joins their bedrooms. He stretches and arches his back and neck relaxingly, letting out a quiet moan that makes Bill crack an eye open and follow Holden's moves as he finally sits down, carefully undoing the knot of his tie so as not to leave creases on it. It feels like a ritual Bill has witnessed before. And, yet, 10 hours after they left their hotel rooms that morning, Holden looks as flawless as he did before their arduous day began. The tiny curls that form on his forehead wave gently with the breeze but still remain intact, and his spotless face doesn't show a sign of their long working hours, his pink wet lips even form a small satisfied smile. Bill doesn't expect words to come out of his mouth immediately after he realizes he is staring at his partner.

“I swear in all my life that I've been on duty, not even in the military, have I ever seen a man nor woman so …” Bill tries to find the words and keeps his eyes pierced in Holden's and finally says, “… neat and flawless after a day like this.” 

A beat goes by. Holden turns towards Bill, and his lips part and gives him a familiar looking glare. Bill's eyes travel from Holden's wide opened eyes to his Adam's apple; it bobs as he swallows.

“I… Wha… I mean… I…” Holden, lost for words, stammers. He is suddenly self-conscious as the first day he entered Quantico or the first day with Bill during road school days. His hands feel huge and awkward, and the air is suddenly thick.

Bill raises an eyebrow and smiles at his flustered partner trying to form a sentence.

“Have I finally found the way to make Holden Ford shut up?” Bill snorts and smiles in triumph as he twists off the cap of another beer bottle and leans back against his chair relaxing again, mostly trying to keep himself from staring at Holden.

Holden suddenly feels the entire heat he endured during the day, all over his face. He doesn't want another drink,although he would certainly need one to push down the knot in his throat. Did Bill just… complimented him? He wasn't dreaming, and he only had the one beer so he's definitely not drunk. Is he having a heat stroke? He touches his head and face and feels the warm skin on his now sweaty hand.

Bill sneaks a glance with yet another smirk.

“Sun finally caught up with you, kid? You’re blushing.”

Against his better judgment, Bill keeps teasing him, and Holden feels the need to disappear at once into the spaces between the tiles of the balcony floor. Holden realizes he has yet to say something, but seconds go by or minutes, and he is not melting into the floor despite a compliment from Bill certainly made him feel like that. He decides the best move is to come up with an exit strategy.

“I… yes. I think I need to take a shower. So… yes. Goodnight, Bill.”

Bill raises his bottle with a grin on his face as Holden slips quickly into his room, only to come back 10 seconds later to sloppily grab his jacket that was left forgotten on the back of the chair.

“Forgot this. Night.”

“Goodnight, Holden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Lindsey for helping me with my humble attempt at writing something.


	2. Draper, Utah

Salt Lake City airport is blooming with people by the time they land. They nudge through the masses to finally get to their rental car, the sun already heating the metal and seats. They pull down the windows in sync as soon as they get inside. Before they leave the parking lot, Bill has already mentioned two different golf courses near their final destination in Draper, Utah. Holden huffs and suppresses the need to twiddle his thumbs on the window sill of the car.

“We could always go to…” he tries to make out the tiny letters, “Rocky Mouth Waterfall. It’s relatively close to our hotel,” Holden points out as he follows a route with his finger on a map he brought with him from the airport.

“A waterfall?” Bill doesn’t sound convinced in the slightest. The word ‘waterfall’ comes out from his mouth sounding exactly as if he had just uttered the most disgusting word in the English language. Holden knows that Bill is not an outdoorsy man unless there’s a crime and it was committed outdoors. Or it’s a golf course. Or his cigarettes are outside.

“Yes, Bill. A waterfall. The lady at the tourist venue said it’s quite popular and offers a lovely view of this… unimpressive town,” Holden waves a hand dismissively. “I thought it would be fun.” Pursuing this is rather a pointless endeavor, Holden considers, already knowing that Bill will want to play golf on their one day off from the interviews they are to hold at Utah State Prison.

“Tell me something, Holden. Exactly how much research have you put into this … popular attraction?” Bill looks at him briefly before turning his attention back to the road, a cigarette already between his lips. Holden hates that he has a point.

“I… well, I haven’t… None, ok? I’m just trying to find things to do so we don’t end up cooped up in the hotel as we usually do,” Holden huffs again. “Forget I said anything.” Holden decides the conversation is going nowhere.

“Don’t get all worked up. Listen, that place is probably at the Valley which means we need to hike there and you need proper shoes for that, don’t you? I haven’t packed any and let me guess, neither do you.” Bill glances at Holden who is pointedly not looking back at Bill, arms crossed and almost pouting like an upset child. “Why don’t you come to the golf course with me instead?” Bill says nonchalantly.

“You are not seriously inviting me to watch you play golf?” Holden looks to his left and sees Bill trying to contain a laugh. He gives up and starts changing stations to find some music. He settles for one playing Message in a Bottle by The Police, which seems fitting. He turns up the volume and they drive in silence to their hotel.

  


* * *

  


They have connecting rooms, which Holden finds reassuring. He likes knowing that Bill is close by, just a door away. He tells himself it’s useful in case they need to discuss details of their cases until late hours. Admittedly, it reminds him of their early days of road school when they shared a room; he enjoyed it despite all the smoking and the sometimes loud snoring. Being alone in a hotel room is not much different than being back at his house except with some horrid decoration.

Staying with Bill, driving around, sharing a meal while discussing cases and their usual banter is like summer camp for him. Or at least what he always imagined summer camp would be like if his parents would have allowed him to go when they weren’t constantly moving. Having a friendly presence in the room, buying meals for two, taking turns to use the shower, fighting over the remote control, making sure neither left anything behind, ironing someone else’s clothes, learning what Bill likes for breakfast: coffee, extra sugar, a glass of cold water with 2 alka seltzers and some danish or pie (preferably rhubarb). The sweeter the better. Bacon is a must if he orders a sandwich and everything green or orange will be probably left forgotten on the plate. He likes wine but always decides on beer, and fruit is something that goes inside a desert.

Holden loves learning about Bill and, when he finds a new detail he never realized before, it feels exciting. He wonders if Bill knows anything about him. He hopes so; he is quite sure he does, but, still, does he? Bill always gives him the chocolate mints that Holden loves (“Mint and chocolate is the perfect combination, Bill”), hands him the latest National Geographic magazine at airports and orders him tea for breakfast. And above everything else, Bill likes the way he looks after a long day. 

Even if he tries very hard to not let himself think about it, the memory of that evening seeps into his thoughts and pushes everything else away. Bill never complimented him before. Not that way, not in such an intimate and personal manner. Any compliments is about some clever way to get information from a criminal and usually accompanied by the word “partner” at some boring, time consuming dinner party for the Agency. This time it was directed at him instead of about him. He memorized it. Bill saying those words, his cigarette hanging from his slightly parted lips, his blue eyes gazing at every inch of his body, his legs spread apart. Holden remembers the way those words were spoken. His tone of voice wasn’t one he uses regularly. It was quiet and dragging as if each letter of each word had a special importance in the overall meaning. It sounded as he imagined couples speak during foreplay. It was meant for him and his ears alone. From time to time, Holden indulges and brings back those minutes to memory and allows thoughts run wild in his head of Bill looking at him as something else, not his co-worker, but someone he wants.

After he escaped that moment in which Bill decided to utter some simple words, in a not so simple manner and with that change everything for him, his heart was beating so fast he felt close to having him call an ambulance. He began sweating as if he has gone running, and his tongue felt too big for his rubbery mouth, and all the hairs on his arms were standing up. Holden ran a shower and eagerly got in without waiting for the perfect water temperature. But he knew those words had an effect on him he was not expecting. After long minutes in the shower, his body began to feel like itself again, and he smiled. He smiled like he hasn’t smiled in so long. He laughed and covered his mouth with both hands fearing Bill might hear him. Holden couldn’t contain the excitement and a certain part of his body was letting him know, and so he indulged once more.

The morning after The Event, they got up early to leave for the airport. They had an early flight and it was a long way from their hotel. He wasn’t yet ready to look at Bill. He felt like a teenager again and the thrill of seeing his first - although unrequited - crush in the school’s hallways or in the football field.

“All set?” Bill asked him as if nothing had happened. Holden nodded and swallowed trying not to look up. Bill glanced at him from time to time and Holden knew right then and there, sitting shoulder to shoulder in those small airplane seats that he wanted more of those same looks that Bill gave him, more of that opened mouth and those hungry eyes but mostly he wanted to know that Bill liked him and exactly in every single way that he did.

  


* * *

  


Their day off finally comes and, after a full breakfast, Bill decides he’s going golfing as promised. He reminds Holden of the invitation, which Holden turns down again, claiming he is going to the library to find some newspaper clippings that might come in handy.

Bill tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders. “Your choice, kid. Come on; I’ll drive you there.” Bill offers as he starts walking to the parking lot.

“What time are you going to be back? Should we grab lunch, or are you going to be back later?” Holden inquires, hoping he doesn’t sound needy but mostly because he doesn’t want to be alone all day long. He’s hoping it will take a long time to find what he needs from the library so time will go by quickly.

“It’s 9 now, so maybe around 2? Are you planning on sitting your ass inside a library all morning?” Bill starts driving towards the library and lights a cigarette.

“I don’t know how they keep their records here. If it’s anything like Quantico it would take me an hour or two at most. I’ll… walk back to the hotel once I’m finished.”

Bill nods, and Holden bites the inside of his cheek feeling disappointed that Bill is still planning on pursuing his hobby instead of spending time with him. They could talk about all the interesting criminals that this prison held, like those convicted for the Frank Bradshaw murder.

Holden closes the door to the car and leans down the window. “See you later then?”

“Don’t study too much. Go outside. Enjoy the sunshine. It looks good on you.” And with those words he takes off.

Holden stands still. Eyes staring fixedly at nothing, the car is long gone now. It happened again. Bill is gone, and he’s not even near a place where he can be alone. Holden doesn’t move for what feels like minutes. He licks his lips, a trail of sweat making his way from his jaw to his neck. He looks around and walks towards the library as fast as he can. His mind is moving too fast to focus on anything, and all the questions he wanted to ask the librarian are forgotten. He only inquires about where to find the clippings from previous years and is on his way. He needs to be alone, and he needs to keep it together, but Bill said something nice again, and how can he tell his heart to calm down when he thought he’d never hear another compliment again? Besides, he should take Bill’s advice and gone outside. He checks his watch. 9:30. Bill won’t be back to the hotel for hours. He doesn’t want to be inside this library now. The air is stale, and there’s a nice day outside. He could be out there.

“Are you all right, dear?” the librarian furrows her eyebrows and asks in a low voice. She’s carrying a heavy wooden wheel cart filled with books. “Should I get you a glass of water? You seem flushed.”

Holden takes a deep breath and looks at her, eyes wide trying to appear normal and failing. “Oh Hello. Thank you, that’s kind of you. It’s … um... the sun. I was outside... in the sun.” Holden tries to make an excuse but he knows exactly why his cheeks are burning and he’s almost out of breath. “Don’t worry. I will find the water dispenser.” He stands up harshly, and his chair makes a loud screeching noise. He feels excited, perhaps a bit too much. The librarian is startled by Holden’s sudden moves. “It’s that way, right? Yes. There it is! I see it. Thank you!” Holden doesn’t let the lady say anything else, and he’s moving. He drinks as much water as he can and watches as the librarian with her cart disappear from the room.

  


* * *

  


Holden sings. Not usually and definitely not in front of anyone except his own reflection in the mirror. The walls of his own house provide the comfort and anonymity he needs. He sings when he’s excited, he sings when he’s had a good day, and he sang that time when he thought he was in love.

He remembers mornings during school breaks when he would watch his mother sing along with the songs on the radio while he helped her prepare lunch, or clean the house or wash clothes. If there is one thing that would always stand out was her beauty and her always spotless dresses that she would sometimes allow him to pick for her. The large skirt would sway gently as she moved around the kitchen to the music. She would start singing, and Holden would soon join her - in a lower voice when father was around - laughing when he mixed the words to the lyrics. Since those early days, he would run to the desk in his bedroom, grab pencil and his black notebook, and he’d write the songs down as much as he could remember so next time he would not make a mistake, and everything would be perfect. Those fond memories with his mother always make up for the not so happy ones which he pushes down whenever one tries to emerge. 

  


* * *

  


He returns from that futile visit to the library, ruined completely by a few words uttered by Bill once again. How can he be so weak? How is he going to be an accomplished agent if this is his weakness? The one thing he is supposed to be good at - controlling his emotions in front of others - is not going very well. And now he’s struggling to not make a complete fool of himself when Bill says one nice thing to him, and he’s hoping they never stop. Holden doesn’t want to give that up. Nobody complimented him. Yes, teachers and professors about his tests and papers. His mother, too. That surely doesn’t count. He doesn’t feel the same way when Bill compliments him. 

Holden checks his watch, and it’s past half past twelve. He should have some lunch, but the thought of eating alone is depressing. He’s not that hungry anyway. He decides to go over some of the folders for tomorrow’s last interview for a while until his mind starts wandering again to the way Bill spoke to him before driving away to play golf. He hates that game. He will never ever play it. Bill could have stayed in the library with him. Maybe compliment his handwriting? No, it’s bad. His clothes? He wore a light yellow summer polo. Not exactly his best choice, it makes him look paler than he already is. Maybe what Bill told him was not a compliment but a suggestion? Is he too pale? Those long hours in the basement can do that to a person. Not many exposure to sunlight. Holden sighs and goes to the bathroom.

He can’t stop thinking about it. He runs the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. The walk back from the library to the hotel at noon has made his freckles appear on his forehead, nose and cheeks, which are also flushed like he spent a day at the beach. The tiny bit of skin visible from his polo shirt, also slightly tanned and his arms too. Bill won’t be able to deny he spent time in the sun. Holden hates that he’s expecting it, that he is craving for Bill to tease him and say something nice to him again. Did he walk back in the sun on purpose? Is his mind playing tricks on him? He needs to stop thinking for a minute. He needs to stop being so excited for Bill’s return from his stupid golf game. He finally gets inside the shower, the water has been running for a while and he relaxes when the hot water covers his shoulders and his hair, curls turning into straight hair over his forehead and temple. He remembers his head full of curls when he was a kid, his mother loved them and they would sing together. She would hold his tiny hands, her long blue dress and the spotless yellow linoleum from the kitchen as their dancefloor and Gershwin’s songs in the old radio. Holden starts singing:

> _There's a saying old, says that love is blind_  
_Still we're often told, “seek and ye shall find”_  
_So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind_  

> 
> _Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet_  
_He's the big affair I cannot forget_  
_Only man I ever think of with regret_

Bill decides his handicap is not going to improve by staying any longer. He’s hungry and surprisingly tired but mostly he is wondering what is Holden up to. It’s almost 1pm and he starts his way back to the Hotel. He passes through the library wondering if maybe he will see him there, or at the diner in front of their hotel. He gets inside his room, toes off his shoes, drops his bag, and opens the door connecting both rooms. Holden’s is obviously spick and span. Almost as when they first arrived. But there are traces of him. The suit he will wear tomorrow is already arranged in a clothes valet. His brown shoes polished to an inch of his life, just below. There are folders, paper and pen on the round desk with an uneaten apple next to them. Bill smiles at himself. He feels like he’s intruding, but he can’t help himself. Holden sat at the bed; he can see the indentation on the sheets. His mind goes straight to that feature of Holden’s body that is quite unlike anything he’s seen from the shared showers during his old army days. He licks his lips and feels uneasy thinking those thoughts but it’s all right as long as they never leave his mind. 

The bathroom door is closed, and there’s steam coming from it. But Bill is more confused by what he hears. Singing.

> _I'd like to add his initial to my monogram_  
_Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?_  

> 
> _There's a somebody I'm longin' to see_  
_I hope that he, turns out to be_  
_Someone who'll watch over me_

It’s Holden. He could recognize that soft silky voice anywhere, even under a shower, behind a door. Holden Ford is singing.

> _I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood_  
_I know I could, always be good_  
_To one who'll watch over me_  

> 
> _Although he may not be the man some_  
_Girls think of as handsome_  
_To my heart he carries the key_

Holden is singing a love song. Bill moves away from the door. Holden doesn’t know he is here, and he’s eavesdropping. But his voice, the way he’s performing it. He’s in shock, a pleasant, warm shock. He can’t seem to leave. He needs to hear more. How can he missed this about Holden? They stayed in the same room for months. He forces his brain to shut up.

> _Won't you tell him please to put on some speed_  
_Follow my lead, oh, how I need_  
_Someone to watch over me_  


A beautiful song. He can imagine Holden in the shower. Pink cheeks from the hot water, his eyes shining, rosy lips, his hair sticking straight to his head, recently shaved face. Bill takes a deep breath. The mood of the song and the longing which comes through Holden’s performance is bewitching him. He’s mesmerized and feels like he needs to sit down. He walks over to one of the chairs of the room and sighs.

Holden hums. Ella Fitzgerald sings this song with such emotion that he’s probably destroying it but he is happy and excited and .... He steps out of the shower, wraps the towel around his hips singing the last line and walks out of the bathroom.

> _Someone to watch over me_

Bill looks up and Holden stops abruptly. Bill is here. Bill is sitting here. He must have heard him. He’s looking at him and he’s naked. Almost naked. He was singing and thinking about Bill and now he’s here, looking at him. Holden opens his eyes wide.

“Bill,” Holden says softly.

Bill smiles at him. He won’t deny he loves those wide sparkling eyes that convey bewilderment, a bit of shock and something else.

“Holden…” Bill stands up. “You were singing,” he whispers. He doesn’t want to break the enchantment of the moment, the song still lingering in his ears.

“You heard me?” Holden replies worrying at his lips.

“You have a beautiful voice. I … I didn’t know you could sing… Not in any way, not in... that way.” Bill wishes he was more articulate but he’s still in some sort of trance. 

Holden, who has been waiting for Bill to show up and to speak nice words at him, is lost for words. Again.

“Thank you, Bill. That’s too… ” Holden hesitates, and he feels cold. He remembers he’s not dressed as he feels goosebumps in his skin. He looks around and sees Bill grabbing another towel and walking towards him. Holden inhales as Bill stands very close to him while he drapes the towel over his shoulder and squeezes his arms, a tiny smile still on his face.

“You are quite something, aren’t you? What other secrets are you hiding from me?” Bill finds a tenderness inside of him he thought was lost. But he found it again, and it’s all because of this almost 30 years old he calls his partner.

Holden knees feel weak, and he’s glad he’s close to a wall. He doesn’t want to faint, swoon, trip, or fall. Neither of those are a good look for him right now. At the same time he does not think he can walk. Bill keeps saying sweet kind things to him and Holden is over the moon. He looks down and bites his bottom lip until it’s wet and blood red but it’s pointless since he can’t hide the smile and he’s blushing again.

“Bill… please. I’m... I’m not that good,” Holden shakes his head, wrapping the towel tighter around him and dares to look up.

“Learn to take a compliment Holden. You know you’re good… Strike that. You know you are very fucking good. How are you not ... I don’t know, dazzling everyone in Broadway?” Bill gushed.

“Bill! Please…” Holden smiles at him and swallows the knot in his throat, his voice soft as ever. “Thank you. You’re … too kind,” he stops for a second and looks around realizing that Bill is in his room instead of the one next door. “I wasn’t expecting you until 2pm.” Holden tries to deflect. He’s going to spontaneously combust in this very room in Draper, Utah.

“That was the plan until I thought we should have lunch. What do you say?” Bill decides to let go of the praising for a moment. Holden is still wrapped in towels, and Bill knows that it's his time to find an exit strategy now, otherwise he is going to keep talking until he pours his entire heart out and every single thing he wants to say to Holden in order to get him to smile the way he is doing now. He really needs to get out of this room.

“I should put some clothes on first, Bill” Holden gifts Bill a grin looking up through his long eyelashes and finally find the courage to take a few steps forward. “If that's alright with you.”

“Of course. Yeah. I guess I'll meet you there. I mean, across the street?” Bill clears his throat and grabs his package of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth but not lighting it in Holden's room. He knows he doesn't approve even if he stands it. He gazes back at Holden one last time.

“Alright then. See you across the street in 15 minutes.” Holden nods once and watches Bill leave through the door almost before he finishes his sentence. The only thing he can manage to do once Bill is out, is let himself drop face up onto the bed. The jittery feeling in the pit of his stomach is back, but he somehow made it through without becoming a blubbering mess like last time. He's getting good at this, although the ensuing questions he knows his mind is forming are threatening to cloud his mind. He can't do that right now. He needs to get ready and meet Bill, and that is the only thought he is going to entertain.

He gets dressed, fixes his hair with precision, showers in aftershave, and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey, I can't thank you enough! You're the bees knees!
> 
> The song Holden sings is "Someone to watch over me" (I particularly love Ella Fitzgerald's version, you can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYEeAOTIQ2c)).


End file.
